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Mar 2010
Tell me:
I like the people that I see.
I like the way they talk with their hands
and close their mouths when they want to smile.

He runs his hands over his lips to quiet his excuses.
He opens the door with his eyes and tells me to leave
but I won’t miss him
because tomorrow will come where we’ll
undress by the brook in our suffocating absences.
Written by
Zan Strumfeld
583
   Hannah Sabine
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